Black Stag on the Hellmouth
by heavyneos
Summary: Xander has a costume change that changes him (YAHF)


The Fury Awakened

(I don't own either Buffy the Vampire Slayer, A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones)

The small Californian town of Sunnydale is peaceful, at least if you don't look to closely, but if you do scratch the shining surface of this suburban town you would find a hole of scum and death unlike any other on the planet, its accidental killings and wild animal attacks bring the death toll of this community to higher than most cities, which should be impossible, but everything about this town is impossible and unlikely, more anything else in the world. Just last night some unknown force magically changed every costume worn that night, from everyday unassuming and mundane pieces of cloth into flesh and blood, every monster and nightmare was brought to life, Yes magic is real and in some instances on the hell-mouth it's even more potent.

Kingman's bluff was one of the highest points in Sunnydale it over looked the sea, the shipping yards, and Restfield Cemetery, it was place for picnics and romantic meetings, but it was also a place of contemplation, on this night as a lone figure clad in armour sits in solitude looking out to the horizon, head in his hands and soul crying, it is a place of morning.

Xander sat on the cold wooden bench recent events playing on his mind as the sun began to set on the horizon the sky filled with a warm orange glow, the stars in the night's sky slowly faded into view with their purple blanket. He had been sitting taking in the air as the smell of salt water and cool breezes blew against him. He couldn't quite grasp everything that had happened to him on that fateful night, what he had done, the lives that he had destroyed and had taken, a part of him relished the thought of that battle but the grater hole despaired for he knew what they really were, just mere children, barely taken from their mother's bosom and yet to taste the wonders of the world there light extinguished by his hammer.

More regret began to fill him, first his brother in all but blood then these innocent children he felt his hands irrevocably tainted with the blood of innocents, next to him leaning on the bench was the weapon, a war hammer black as obsidian in the night with engraved stag heads in gold, it had a large thick metal face with vicious looking teeth like a tenderiser, which tapered down to the main body of the hammer, the rear face had a pick like spike and another spike out the tip of it, its shaft was made of metal and was separated by two gleaming golden rings that separated the hammer into three pieces, the main head and an inch of neck, the main shaft and then the handle the very end of the hammer had another point. This was the weapon that killed innocents, the Baratheon war hammer.

He hadn't know what he was unleashing when he bought a crown, because the costume shop had run out of toy guns, or when he asked Giles for help with a costume in return for him never using his nickname again, he gave him old beaten up armour from the drama club and a golden yellow tabard he had asked for a stag to be sown onto it as they were his favourite animal, he had wanted to show up Angel and be Buffy's knight in shining armour, but what he had done was unwittingly unleashed Robert Baratheon on the town, a man with the strength of a giant, and a blood lust to match the worst vampires, god he could still hear the sickening wet squelching crunching sound as his hammer impacted a child wearing a werewolf costume, they never tell you that the dead befoul themselves when killed, that is never in the history books or in the storeys, he could still hear the piteous wines as he had brought the hammer down and crushed his skull, the boy could have been anything, but now because of him he would forever be just another child lost on the hell mouth.

But Robert also regretted a great deal as well, he never got over the loss of his love Lyanna or the sheer rage he felt at her loss, he never wanted the throne all he wanted was her, he razed a kingdom and a dynasty to the ground for his beloved, then he drunk and whored his way around the country stewing in his despair and rage, only the fleeting taste of alcohol could stop her from repapering where ever he looked, he regretted letting Tywin kill the princess and her children, 'kill', more like butcher Xander thought, his actions had driven his greatest friend away to his northern citadel in the perpetual winter cold, he couldn't even look at himself in the mirror any longer because he would see the kind of wretched pig he had become, a stain on his family honour and history hated by his brothers, loathed by his bitch wife, and unappreciated by his bastard children. He had to get up three times a night to piss, a piss that would burn, it bled when he shit and it hurt when he walked and when he sat on that metal chair he cut himself and bled black thick clotted blood. His hair was greying and his eyesight was leaving him and his misers had told him that his liver was in a bad way and to stop drinking.

But with all that he remembered the good times lamenting his age, like a high school footballer unable to make it to collage remembers the good parts but almost nothing of the bad; he remembered the battles with fondness, Summer Hall when he won three battles in one day, the battle of the bells and finally his sweetest memory ending Rhaegar with his own two hands at the trident, the sheer rage he unleashed on the dragon prince, it was indescribable the power in his limbs the thundering blows that echoed around the battle field then that one beautiful shot, that one blow that lifted the prince six feet in the air and ten feet back scattering his rubies along the river forever changing its name to the ruby ford, he didn't give the prince a quick death no he watched as he tried to breath with shattered ribs he could hear the gargling of his raged breath and it sounded sweeter than a chorus of angels to him, he watched with satisfaction as the life left Rhaegar's eyes. Then his own wounds caught up with him and he would have gladly died there if he knew what had happened to his beloved, he sent Ned to Kings Landing to face the mad king and make him pay in blood.

Xander didn't notice the man that sat down next to him until he spoke

"Xander are you alright" he spoke with an undisguised English accent, it was Rupert Giles, and it was a very stupid question; no he wasn't alright his memories were full of blood and fury, he didn't know where Robert Baratheon's fury and regret ended and Xander's began

"No" he said simply he didn't have the words or the eloquence to put together what he was feeling right now.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"How many" he asked his voice just above a whisper "how many had Robert, had I ended?"

"I'm not sure" he said in almost a whisper "some of the bodies were mangled some have vanished" he said with regret "I'm so sorry Xander"

"So much death" he said not turning his eyes fixed on the horizon "I see flashes of them" he closed his eyes "when I close my eyes I can see them" He felt a hand come down on his back it was a comforting gesture, even if the armour was obscuring the feel, but to have that little extra weight on his armoured back was enough, he opened his eyes and turned to the man, "not the children but the costumes they wore" he breathed in a ragged breath, he could feel the tears cascade down his cheek they burned slightly as if punishing him.

"Xander" he spoke softly in that fatherly tone "I can't even begin to know what you're feeling now"

"No you can't" he said turning back to the horizon "and don't tell me this is not my fault" he said his grief turning to rage "if I was stronger I could have fought it somehow" he said punctuating each word with his fist impacting on his thigh armour.

"You couldn't have" he said softly

"How" he asked "how do you know" his voice cracked with emotion

"The spell used invoked the elder god Janus" he was rubbing small circles in Xander's armour "he used a god Xander an elder god"

Xander's mind replayed Roberts's memories in Storms End, to the lessons about Durran Godsgrief the first storm king and distant founder of House Baratheon who declared a war on the gods, and how he raised the mighty fortress of Storms End with the help of Bran the builder of house stark. Then his mind fixated on what Giles had just said he, he, so there was a man evolved in this madness

"You said 'he' who is 'he'" he felt the rage within himself rise like a volcano about to erupt

"His name is Ethan Rayne a chaos mage"

"Gods dam every sorcerer to the pit" he raged through gritted teeth

"I ran him off and ended the spell" he said trying to calm him down

"I swear by the old gods and the new I will have him" he balled his fists so tightly that if he was not wearing armour he would have cut open his own hands "I will have revenge for what he has done this night" he roared with untendered rage somehow he was on his feet his voice, his Roar and the very sky quaked and the earth trembled at his rage.

He roared and roared until he couldn't any longer unleashing that hate and fury, until the fatigue of several hours of battle and unleashing raw emotion had drained Xander who fell to his knees despite Giles's attempt to catch him, breathing in ragged breaths he tried to get control of himself again, he fell forward his trembling arms barely keeping him from falling flat on his face. Giles helped him get to his feet again throwing Xander's trembling arm over his shoulder and helped him to his car before going back for his hammer; Giles didn't know what weighed more the hammer or the fully armoured Xander.

As he sat in the driver's seat he turned to the young man next to him his keys in the ignition, Xander was in no shape to do much of anything in this condition he concluded, and taking Xander home in such a condition would raise a few questions so there was only one thing for it, he would have to take Xander to Willow, maybe she could help him in ways he couldn't. Hopefully she could also persuade him not to seek revenge but with the fury he expressed earlier he sincerely doubted it, but maybe she could mitigate it bleed some of it out him. He sighed as he turned the key, the car spluttered a few times before starting with an ear piercing screech that abated after a second to the puttering of the engine, the old 1963 Citroën DS strained slightly at the weight but soldered on, it wasn't a long drive to the Rosenberg house about ten minutes but it allowed some brief contemplation.

Ethan Rayne must have fallen far in the last few decades to try something like this he thought, as he turned the car right and headed down the street, he couldn't imagine what he would be like if he hadn't been changed by the traumatic event, the loss of a friend especially in that way changed him for the better but Ethan, it pushed him farther into the embrace of dark magic.

His car puttered up to the drive way and shuddered to a stop, the handbrake creaked as he locked it into place, he looked at Xander one last time before exiting the car, he was asleep he could see Xanders eyes move behind his eyelids indicating dreaming, he hoped for a fleeting moment that in his dreams he had some piece.

Xander was on his knees on the cold stone floor he didn't know where he was though it did seem familiar somehow, but his eyes refused to focus he could see an outline of something, something he knew, no someone he knew.

"Ours is the fury, these are the words of the black stag of Baretheon" came the deep rumble of a familiar voice "a war cry that echoed throughout the seven kingdoms when I rose in rebellion against the dragon kings, and shattered a dynasty three hundred years old" Xander tried to focus and he tried to get up but he felt something holding him at the wrist and the familiar jingle of iron chains.

"Robert?"

"A bloodline born in the wars of conquest" the voice was moving now encircling him "when the first dragon invaded we were there" he felt weight on his shoulders and the voice breathing on his left ear "ordered to take the Storm Lands from the last Storm King, and won it in open combat, and proclaimed Wardens of the Storm Lands"

"What do you want Robert" he pulled at the chains "Why am I here"

"Ours is the Fury" he said he could hear booted feet move about him

"What?" he shook his head trying to clear his vision?

"Ours is the Fury" he said again Xander pulled at the chains again harder this time but to no avail "you are blood of the black stag, blood of my blood" he stopped moving "Ours is the Fury"

"I don't..."

"SAY IT" he roared

"Ours is the Fury" he said pulling at the chains

"Say it like you have a pair of balls between your legs"

"I already said it now release me"

"Alexander" the voice changed it was garbled it sounded vaguely English

"Ours is the Fury"

Xander tried to concentrate on the voice calling him, the English accent made it sound like Giles but he couldn't be sure, but it was getting fainter he felt that something was keeping him here, holding him like fly on fly paper.

"It is pointless to try Alexander" said Robert "you are too weak"

"What"

"Only a Baratheon can break those chains" his voice moved farther away and he herd "and you don't seem to have the ability or the blood" the sound of footfalls began to trail away "a pity it seems those children died for nothing"

That was the final straw Xander he refused to allow those deaths to mean nothing he would avenge them, he would fight and keep fighting until he could no longer. He summoned up his rage and tried the chains again but to no avail, he couldn't seam to summon the strength.

"Alexander" came the British accent again it was more concerned now "you need to wake up now lad"

"You are alone here Alexander" the voice of Robert Baretheon echoed again "all alone" Robert echoed around him again "stew in you failure and know" Xander felt fuzzy hair brush his cheek "that it was your failure that killed those children, and your failure that more shall die"

Xander was shaking it didn't seem possible that he could feel any more hatred but it just kept going, he was falling deeper and deeper into his fur

"And what of poor Willow" Xander sucked in a breath, he was shaking uncontrollably now, his face was red with rage and his eyes were bloodshot the voice of Robert Baretheon driving him farther and farther down the abyss then suddenly there was a groaning of metal and dull thunk, the chains had broken.

The Fury Unbound (2)

Rupert Giles was now worried about young Alexander, he had got the slumbering teen into the Rosenberg house where Willow was fussing over his unconscious form, he seemed to twitch and his hands clasped like he was trying to hold something, Xander was placed down onto the sofa in the living room and Willow insisted that they remove his armour, which was much more difficult with him asleep, in reverse order to dressing him in his armour Giles began with the sircoat and worked their way down until Xander was in his underwear and resting semi comfortably on the pink sofa.

In the back of the room Buffy was pacing and muttering in and out of what Americans pass off as English and old French, it was quite a distraction for Giles who was getting a headache in two languages, she was still getting her head straight memories of a different life were raging against her own, different morals and different social graces where trying to mesh together unsuccessfully, Giles only picked up the odd word here and there in ether language.

Xander suddenly began to shake, he was gritting his teeth almost like he was in agony, then suddenly he began to flail about like he was having a fit Giles grabbed the boy and tried to hold him whiles Willow grabbed his legs,

"Alexander" Giles said "you need to wake up now lad" he struggled to still the boy when suddenly he went limp, cautiously they moved away from him, Buffy seemed to be more like herself again, she walked over to Giles looking slightly grey but better than earlier when he first arrived.

"What's wrong with him" she asked looking at his still form

"He's had a very trying night" said Giles as he sat opposite

"Haven't we all" she said as she sat and watched Xander for a moment before her eyes were drawn to the black shape leaning by the window "what is that" she said as he got up and approached it in one fluid motion her arm out stretched and hand open to grasp it, before Giles stopped her mere inches from the handle

"That is Xanders war hammer"

"It's beautiful" she said "more art than weapon" she admired the sleek lines and deadly beauty of it "what's it made of" she asked "it doesn't look like any metal I've ever seen before"

Giles too noted that the metal had an otherworldly look about it; it absorbed all light around it and the golden highlights seemed almost to glow against the black metal etched into the head was the image of a stag, Giles dragged his eyes away from the weapon once again they locked onto Xander his hands where clasped firmly into fists, his hands were clasped do tightly that Giles thought he may have cut open his own hands.

Suddenly Xanders eyes snapped open and with an almighty roar of rage he jumped at Giles but before his hands could reach around the man's throat Buffy interested him with a well placed punch.

Xander had broken the chains.


End file.
